


Athena

by KuraiTsuky



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Arthur, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:29:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiTsuky/pseuds/KuraiTsuky
Summary: A king comes to whisk a princess away. She’s not a damsel and he is not a knight.
Relationships: Arthur Curry/Orm Marius
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87





	Athena

“I’m not drunk enough for this” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, when she sees the dinosaur (A fucking dinosaur, her inner five year old is yelling in her head) and the armoured man that dismounts it. In hindsight, attempting to swim after eight beers and three shots of tequila wasn’t one of her brightest ideas, but she’s pretty sure she’s not hallucinating when the man takes off his helmet and looks at her with her mother’s eyes.

He’s tall, taller than her, broad shouldered and painfully handsome. The armour shines almost blindingly and she doesn’t really have to ask, to know who this is. As he approaches, she realizes he also has their mother’s hair and lips. Athena wonders if she can blame the drunkenness for the way her heart flutters when he takes off his gloves and extends a hand in her direction, because she’s feeling much more sober right now.

She’s not sure what makes her take it. It’s warm, calloused, but it doesn’t bother her, her own are the same. He deposits a stiff kiss on the back of her hand, and up close, Athena can see a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks at the motion. The beating of his heart is just as wild as hers through the skin of his palm. They should separate. She should hate him, the son that has her crown. But Athena can’t bring herself to break the moment, and seemingly, he can’t either.

  
  


Orm has always been aware of his sister’s existence, in a vague, abstract kind of way. It’s been easy, hating her, blaming her for the death of Atlanna, absolving himself of any guilt his inaction may have caused. It’s been easy to not think of her when the crown of Atlan rests upon his brow, but with every day that goes by, she is more and more present in his thoughts. It begins as a daydream, when he tries to imagine her, wondering if she’s prettier than Mira. But the thought doesn’t leave him alone. It pursues him, growing like a disease, invading his sleeping and waking moments both. He ends up sneaking out of his own kingdom like a thief, his mount ready and a subpar armour to act as a disguise, just to see her.

He vaguely knows where she could be, Vulko hasn’t been as discreet as he thought himself to be. It is only when he sees her, a distant figure suspended among the coral reefs, that he realizes he doesn’t even know what to say. Orm approaches carefully, she doesn’t move even when his mount comes to a halt far too close, and he can see his mother’s steel in her spine. He dismounts suddenly nervous, he’s never been much of a ladies man. His marriage to Mira, arranged since childhood, made everything easier in that respect. The fact that his betrothed was the most beautiful woman in the seven seas, did the rest.

Except that is no longer true.

His sister is tall, perhaps taller than Mira, but still shorter than him. Thin but with a generous figure, the way her human clothes cling to her doesn’t leave much to the imagination. A halo of wild, dark curls sways around her head and as she moves, maybe subconsciously, towards him, his eyes are drawn to the black ink that covers her arms and the topmost part of her cleavage. Orm’s mouth is dry, and he takes off his helmet as an afterthought letting it slip through his fingers as he comes closer. She is the loveliest sight he has ever seen.

He offers a hand in a practice move, but the kiss doesn’t come as such. Orm cannot claim it as instinct, it’s more a distraction while he attempts to find his words. It doesn’t work. Mainly because he makes the mistake of looking up into her eyes before straightening up again. Her pupils are gold, like the crown of Atlantis, with a ring of green around the exterior. The colours of Kings. He swallows, hopping she won’t notice the warmth on his cheeks.

She is as nervous as him, Orm thinks, though that solves little. They should separate. He should hate her, the beloved daughter that killed his mother. The woman than can dethrone him. Instead he holds her hand in his and hopes he’ll get to hold a great deal more soon.

The old kings married their sisters, Orm is not one big for tradition, but as he watches Athena, trusting him as he guides her to his mount, the dark ink on her skin almost gleaming under the filtered moonlight and her deep brown hair waving around her face like the crown she deserves to wear, he decides that one is a tradition he can get behind.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is the place where I beg for comments.


End file.
